


I ain't got my Hopes High

by Swag_1_Fam_a_Lam



Series: Bruins in Space [3]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: And in love, Bergy is oblivious, Brad is sad, Chris Kelly - Freeform, Established Relationship, Judicious use of cliches, Lack of Communication, M/M, Misunderstandings, Science Fiction, but briefly - Freeform, can be read as a standalone, it's trying to be anyway, mentions of - Freeform, tyler seguin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 05:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18887998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swag_1_Fam_a_Lam/pseuds/Swag_1_Fam_a_Lam
Summary: In less than a week Patrice will graduate.It’s not something Brad has spent much time thinking about, because of course he will. He’s Patrice Bergeron, one of the brightest and most talented cadets to ever pass through the academy. He’ll graduate with merits, a personal congratulations from the Commissioner General, a first year commission on one of the top of the line ships with a contract for at least a five year mission.And Brad is happy for him, really he is.





	I ain't got my Hopes High

**Author's Note:**

> I bet you're wondering if I even know if chronology is a thing, the answer is no, I do not. In my defense, I just wanted to write something that actually has these two in a relationship - so here we are. 
> 
> You don't need to read the others in this 'series', in fact it's probably better if you don't, this is all just indulgence writing and I have no idea where I'm going with it. It's like a lucky dip, where and what the fuck will she write about next. Either way, this is some actual Bergy/Marchy content so let's just enjoy that.
> 
> Not beta'd, we die like men
> 
> Also I'm not entirely sure there's a completely original plot point in here at all, but fuck it it was fun to write

 

 

 

In less than a week Patrice will graduate. 

It’s not something Brad has spent much time thinking about, because of course he will. He’s Patrice Bergeron, one of the brightest and most talented cadets to ever pass through the academy. He’ll graduate with merits, a personal congratulations from the Commissioner General, a first year commission on one of the top of the line ships with a contract for at least a five year mission. 

And Brad is happy for him, really he is.

Patrice was perhaps the best person Marchy had ever met, always calm in a crisis, too intelligent for most Federation Officers to keep up with and he puts up with all of Brad’s shit too. He’s practically a saint.  All Bergy had ever wanted, had been dreaming of since he was a child, was the black. He’d told Brad about nights spent on the roof of his house on the planet  _ Quebec,  _ looking up at the stars and imagining captaining his own ship. Marchy can imagine it well, Patrice in the Federations Officers Uniform, sharp black double breasted jacket and the two silver bars of the Captain Insignia. It’s a good image, he’s imagined it  _ a lot. _

So yeah, Brad’s happy for him, fucking ecstatic even. The only problem is that Brad wasn’t going with him.

He forgets, they all do sometimes, that he’s a year below them. It was that damn expedition that did it, only the luckiest of first years get on it, being a second year exercise and all. Brad wasn’t quite sure if it had been luck or fate that had landed him not only on the exercise, but Bergy’s ship too.

They were friends before of course, mutual acquaintances had made sure of that, and well, even if they hadn’t Brad wasn’t sure he would have been able to stay away for long. Friends had been a relative term of course, because he was pretty sure friends didn’t fall head over tits for each other but hey, he wasn’t complaining.  It had been a surprise when Bergy had kissed him, a week into the expedition, completely out of nowhere whilst they were alone in the bunk room after a night of drinking. Part of Brad had thought it would be a one time thing, they’d gotten drunk , made out, and that would be the end of it. That idea had made his heart want to rip itself out his chest and throw itself into a fire. But for Bergy, Brad would do just about anything, even pretend nothing had ever happened and Brad wasn’t madly, truly, deeply in love with the guy.

And then it had happened again, whilst they weren’t drunk, and then again, and again. So often in fact, that Brad had forgotten to anticipate Bergy calling a stop to it. The expedition passed, and the kisses, amongst other things, continued. True, it had taken Marchy far too long to realise they were actually dating, and not, you know, making out buddies, but he’d gotten there in the end. Patrice had laughed at him softly, called him an idiot and then taken him out to dinner at some fancy place they couldn’t really afford.

Now, one year later, Bergy was about to graduate, go forth hundreds of miles away into the black, and Brad would be left behind. They hadn’t discussed it at all, Bergy wasn’t the kind of guy to not talk through important things, so Brad just accepted it as something they just weren’t going to mention. 

And all this was fine. Brad was just fine with it, or he would be. Eventually. And if it hurt a little now, every time Bergy smiled at him, or gave him a peck on the cheek, then he’d deal with it, because Patrice deserved to not have to deal with a Marchy breakdown. Not now. 

 

 

 

“Where do you think they’ll put you Bergy?” Kells yelled at Patrice from across the table, beer in hand sloshing as he did so. 

They’re sat in the corner of one of the student bars just off campus, around eleven of them squashed around one table. Brad is tucked under one of Bergy’s arms like usual, and he’d been stealing sips from his drink the whole night, but he’s far from drunk. Most of the guys had finished their last exam earlier that day, and the whole group had decided the best way to celebrate was to go get so smashed they wouldn’t remember a thing.  Brad wasn’t the only second year there, Spooner had also tagged along, although he was significantly more wasted and more rowdy than the rest of them.

“I don’t know,” Bergy shouts right back with a laugh, “Somewhere good I hope.”

Brad wants to snort, as if Bergy wouldn’t get somewhere good, chances were with his skill set he would land on one of the new battlecruisers, destined for somewhere far away from here. 

“He’s being modest, Bergy’s going to get put on some bigwigs ship on a mission to go save the world or something.” Brad announced loudly to the group, “I bet they’ll put him right on the  _ Boston _ .”

“New Graduates don’t get placements like that,” 

“Shhh Babe. Of course you will, and then I’ll be able to brag to my many friends that my big, handsome boyfriend is out there fucking shit up on the biggest, baddest ship in the galaxy.” 

“That’s right!” Kells, overexcited and completely utterly smashed, jumped to his feet, drink in hand, “Pat to the  _ Boston _ , you’ll be Captain within the year!”

“Captain Patrice!” Some yelled from behind them.

“Captain Patrice!” Brad yelled right back before downing his beer in one go. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

 

 

 

Brad hadn’t seen Bergy in almost two days.

He’s not a real clingy kind of guy, and he gets needing personal space, he does. It’s just...Patrice will be receiving his Graduation Commission in a few days, and then not long after that he’ll ship out to wherever the hell they’re sending him. From there Brad has no idea if he’ll even get to talk to Bergy very much, let alone see him or touch him. 

But it’s fine. It’s not the first time they’ve spent a few days apart before because of exams, he’ll deal. 

Patrice had sent him a message on his comm anyway, apologising for his absence but his Diplomacy in the Outer Sections Professor wanted to talk about the possibility of publishing one of his essays. Which is great, Brad’s always loved reading Bergy’s essays, if not for the content then because it was  _ Bergy  _ who wrote them. If they choose to publish it, which they will Brad knows they will, then it’s just one more thing to add to his already gilded resume. Worth a couple of days apart.  

And if, that evening when he gets back to Bergy’s dorm only to see Patrice already passed out on the bed, dead to the world, he needs a shot of vodka or two? That’s no ones business but his own.

 

 

 

Brad ate lunch alone most days now. Spooner usually in the library studying, the third years busy wrapping up their end of year work, Segs was god knows where and Bergy? Bergy had cadet ambassador duties most lunchtimes, now that he was free from class, and if he even had time for lunch he was always too quick to chat.  So it’s something of a surprise when his boyfriend, harried looking but gorgeous as always, sunk down on the seat opposite him. Brad blinks, before offering a smile. 

“Hey you.” 

“Hey,” Patrice leant over to kiss him swiftly, it’s chaste, not for lack of trying on Brad’s part, and over almost as soon as it began. It made something in Brad stir uneasily. He looks tired; dark circles under his eyes and a slump to his shoulders.

“You eaten yet?” He reached across to take Bergy’s hand, squeezing, “You kinda look like shit.”

Patrice laughed, shaking his head, “No, haven’t time, Julien’s been running me off my feet with Graduation prep.”

“You should sue him for slave labour,” He slid his plate over the table, half eaten pasta and meatballs, “Eat Babe, before you faint.”

Patrice muttered a faint protest at the food, but folded when his stomach rumbled. Brad watched him fondly for a second, trying not to let the worry creep onto his face, Bergy was a big boy, he could look after himself.

“You want to go to dinner later? There’s a new Chinese place that opened just off campus, we could take the shuttle over if you want.” 

Bergy groans and set his fork down, looking contritely at Brad.

“I’m so sorry Marchy, I’ve got a meeting with my adviser about Graduation this evening.”

“In the evening? That’s kind of late.”

“Admiral Chiarelli’s a busy man, it’s the only time he could fit me in.” 

“Ah, well maybe next time yeah?”

“Yeah for sure,” Bergy looks down at his comm and swore under his breath, “Shit I’ve got to go, I said to Kells I’d help him with Xenolinguistics and I’ll be late if I don’t go now.”

Before Brad could reply, Bergy had gotten up from the table, pressed a kiss to his forehead and jogged off. Marchy looked down at the remains of his lunch and felt sick to his stomach.

It’s not the first time Patrice had said no to something like this lately, a meal out together, a date, even just staying in and watching a holo-vid. And not for the first time, Brad has to tell himself it doesn’t mean anything, Patrice Bergeron is a busy guy, has been since they met. This is nothing new, nothing Brad should get worked up over. They were fine.

 

 

 

It was the night before Bergy’s graduation and Brad was  alone in his own dorm again. He’s too fucking drunk to think properly, several shots of vodka and at least half a bottle of rum already gone and it wasn’t even late. He’s trying not to think too much, because that just leads to him thinking about Patrice, and  _ that  _ just makes him sad. So he doesn’t think about Bergy, he doesn’t think about tomorrow or the days after, doesn’t think about him leaving or anything. He just drinks and drinks.

When the comm goes off, maybe two hours into his pity party, he checks the caller ID before answering.  _ Saint Patrice. _

He let it ring. 

It goes silent and doesn’t ring again. Instead the voice message icon pops up. Against his better judgement, he opens it.

“ _ Hey Marchy, you’re not answering your comm which means either you’ve gone for a shit without it, or are in another room. Anyway, Julien cancelled the meeting like, three minutes ago, so I’m free if you want to come over. Doors unlocked so no need to comm me back or anything. Yeah. Love you, bye. _ ”

Brad doesn’t cry, but it’s a close thing.

He doesn’t go to Bergy’s or comm him back. Instead he took another swig of rum, closed his eyes and tried not to think about anything.

 

 

 

A part of Brad doesn’t want to go to the Graduation Ceremony, but he squashes that feeling down as soon as the idea of just skipping out floats through his head. Bergy might not be wanting to carrying on whatever they are beyond Graduation, but he deserves more than Brad just abandoning him on one of the best days of his life. 

So he pulled on his nicest pair of dress pants, a clean shirt and black blazer, tries to tame his hair to little success and slides on a pair of sunglasses after he catches sight of his bloodshot eyes in the mirror. God damn hangovers. 

The shuttle to the academy is too loud with people and too bright with it’s fluorescent lights. It makes Brad’s head hurt a little bit but that’s fine. There’s a message on his comm that he’d received as he’d left the dorm, he’d ignored it then, wondering if it was Kells making sure he was on his way or Spooner writing an essay on how exciting this whole deal was. 

 

_ Is it normal to sweat this much before you graduate? I feel like I need a few buckets to cope - Bergy _

 

It’s meant to come across as joking, and Brad thinks that to most people it would be successful - Patrice Bergeron nervous over Graduation? Impossible. But he knows better than that, even actual Saints get jitters sometimes.

 

_ I’m on my way, I can always pick you up a bucket or two en route - BMarch _

 

_ I’m alright :) for now anyway. I feel like a couple of shots wouldn’t go amiss right about now though - Bergy _

 

_ You’ll be fine babe, you aced your exams and the Brass love you, chances are you’ll graduate with honors and a couple of kisses from the admirals - BMarch _

 

_ I’ll take you up on the celebratory shots this evening though - BMarch _

 

He waited for a reply, watching the small dots on the messaging interface. After a few seconds, the dots stopped, and the little green light next to Bergy’s name went black - offline. Brad stared at the device for a few seconds, scanning his words to see what he could possibly have said to make Bergy leave mid conversation. Halfway into a rather unreasonable panic, he took a second to breathe and mentally slapped himself. 

Patrice was currently getting ready to graduate, of course he didn’t have time to reply to Brad offering shots. 

He slipped the comm back into his pocket and sat up in his seat as the shuttle pilot announced that they were arriving to the Academy shuttle station. He stepped off the shuttle, slipping into the steady stream of people heading towards the main courtyard, and tried not to think too much about anything beyond the next few hours.

 

 

 

Bergy, being a third year (although not anymore) and a star cadet, had one of the best dorm rooms on campus. It was a single, with a large double bed, proper kitchenette and running hot water - a commodity that Brad’s own dorm block only had every other day. 

Since they started dating he’d spent more time here than his own room, because even though his roommate had barely lasted a week it was still a shithole. 

And after graduation, like they had done almost every single day since the expedition, Bergy had led Brad back here to celebrate - because apparently going to the pub and getting pissed was too boring for Patrice.  In hindsight, there was a reason Bergy was known as the smart one in their relationship and Brad should really know better than to question anything he decided to do. 

Hours after graduation, Brad’s lounging on Bergy’s couch. The man in question had gone to the kitchen in search of snacks, muttering something about replicated popcorn and authenticity. This was good, he decided, this was back to normal for them, and now they could forget graduation and all the unnecessary panicking and over overthinking and- his train of thought is halted by a sharp intake of breath from the kitchen.

“Bergy?” Brad lifted himself off the couch, twisting to see through to the kitchenette. Bergy is stood, comm in his hand, staring at the screen. He didn’t appear to notice Brad’s call. 

“Bergy? Hey, what’s going in?” He made his way into the kitchen, coming to stand in the doorway, “Babe?”

Patrice looked up at him, shock written all over his face, “I got it.”

“You got what?”

“A place on the  _ Boston _ , shit March you were right, they’ve put me on the Flagship.”

In that split second all Brad can’t think about the  _ Boston _ , the Flagship of the Atlantic Quadrant as one the most impressive and important ships in the Federation. Captained by some of the most respectable Federation Members, given only the most important missions - both diplomatic and military. Can’t think about how many careers have been launched from it’s decks, the countless names in the history books and how getting a place there as soon as you’ve graduated ensured success. 

No. 

The one thing that he could think of, the only damn thing, was the fact that the  _ Boston _ was located on the other side of the galaxy, as far away from the Pacific Quadrant - and Brad - as possible. Light years away, in practically another universe. 

He hated himself for that thought. 

“Marchy?” Bergy was peering straight at him, a concerned expression on his face.

“Holy shit Bergy!” It’s too forced and he knows it, but Patrice seems to buy the sudden joy well enough, “What did I tell you?”

He surged forward, throwing his arms around his boyfriend and planting a kiss on both cheeks and then his forehead. Bergy laughed with him, sweeping Brad into a hug, comm digging into his ribs, and twirling him around. 

“You did indeed.”

“What can I say, I know best,  everyone should listen to me about everything.” 

“Shit, I need to call, god, my mom? My brothers? Kells will kill me if I don’t tell him.”

“Chill out.” Brad forced a smile, taking the comm from Bergy’s hand and placing it on the counter, “Go get your personal comm and we’ll sort it out.”

With a nod he rushed out into the living room, leaving Brad to leaning tiredly against the worktop. He glanced over his shoulder at the comm, still on and open to the page of the message. He shouldn’t look, he knows this, but that’s never stopped him before. 

He regrets that choice as soon as he takes it, gaze catching on something that made his blood turn to ice. It’s the date of the start of the commission, when Bergy would be leaving for the  _ Boston. _

It’s for the very next week.

 

 

 

Brad gets spectacularly, unbelievably, completely drunk the next night.

So does everyone else of course, how else do you celebrate an actual Saint getting the most prestigious commission possible? Nothing but the best for Bergy. So they had invaded one of the better student bars, just off campus, and had been plying him with shots all night. Kells had tried to hit on several women at the bar, to no avail, and had just come back with more alcohol. Segs had already disappeared with a curvy blonde - Brad had downed his leftover cocktail as soon as he’d seen them exit. 

He stays close to Patrice for most of the evening, drinking and smiling and laughing at even the shitty jokes. Bergy’s a good boy though, and his mother raised him right, so eventually he pours Brad into a chair and went to go mingle with the others. 

This plan worked for a few minutes, but Brad’s had just enough to drink that it seems like a good idea to just find Bergy and become a limpet for the rest of night. He swiped a fruity looking cocktail from the middle of the table, and started to make his way over to where he last saw Bergy - by the bar with Kells.

The bar is crowded, and it’s hard to push through the masses, but he’s almost there when he catches a snippet of a conversation. 

“So it’s off to save the world then for you eh? Lil, ol Marchy knew what he was talking about,” It’s Kells talking, and he sounded as sloshed as Brad felt. 

“Yeah, something like that,” And that’s Bergy, “ Don’t tell him you said that though, he’s already told me I told you so several times.”

“Ah my lips are locked my friend - it’s got to feel good though.”

“What Marchy getting something right?” Brad maneuvers himself slightly closer to them, around a gaggle of girls so he can them as well as hear them.

“No, getting out of here.”

“Yeah fuck, it feels like we’ve been here for decades, I can’t wait to leave it all behind once and for all.” And that's...Brad’s not entirely sure how to feel about. He’s too drunk to process the hurt much beyond acknowledging his sudden urge to get the fuck out of there.

“Leave us lot all in the dust eh Patrice?”

Brad didn’t hear Bergy’s reply, to busy turning on his heel and going back the way he came, unnoticed.

 

 

 

He woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and the sun shining right into his eyes. 

Groaning, he flopped over to the other side of the bed, head buried into the pillow. There was peace for a few seconds, just the silence of the room and a throbbing at his temples. It’s not the  _ worst  _ hangover he’s ever had, at least it doesn’t seem to be, but it’s certainly not great. 

The quiet is interrupted by the buzz of his comm. He resolutely ignored it. It continued to hum, one, twice more, before falling silent.

It was probably Bergy, wondering where he is, or maybe Kells telling him he missed some sick drinking games and why the fuck did you bail so early you pussy? Either way, Brad wasn’t in the mood to deal with anything other than a large steaming mug of coffee, so the comm would have to wait. And if he ended up laying in bed an extra half an hour so he was running too short on time to check the comm before he left for class? Well that was no ones business but his own.

He was halfway to his Emergency Piloting class, already five minutes late, when he heard someone shout his name. By instinct he turned towards the sound of the voice, and inwardly groaned when he saw who it was. 

It's Bergy, looking great as usual, you wouldn’t have been able to tell he had been drinking the whole night, but there’s no smile on face. 

“Hey Bergy.” He mustered up a weak smile and inwardly cursed his inability to act vaguely. He shuffled on the spot as Patrice came to a halt in front of him. 

“Where did you go last night? You disappeared.” He said sounding sad - _fuck_ - Brad was not ready to deal with this so early in the morning.

“Ah, I went back to my dorm, didn’t want to disturb you this morning, I have an early lecture…”

“That’s never bothered you before,” Patrice said, which, okay, that was true,”And I don’t even have class anymore.”

“Uh, I just figured you wouldn’t want to deal with me like this on your first real day off you know,” He took a minute step backwards, and god this was so awkward. He hadn’t been awkward with Patrice since they started dating, and even then that hadn’t lasted very long. Bergy seemed to notice this, and his frown deepened as he took in Brad’s jittery stance.

“Are you okay Marchy? You’ve been kinda weird this past week.” And that was Brad’s cue to book it the hell out of there.

“Yeah I’m fine! I’m really late to class though so like, I’ll see you later?”

He’s not proud of it, but with that he turned and ran off into the crowd, leaving Bergy staring after him.

 

 

 

Bergy’s waiting for him outside his dorm room when he gets back in that evening. It’s been a long day, with several classes including Piloting and Self Defence, and Brad is not mentally equipped to have this conversation right now. Or like, ever. Especially because Patrice looks kind of pissed and normally that look is reserved for other people, not Brad.  

“Hey.” He said quietly. Bergy craned his neck upwards to look at him.

“Can I come in?”

Brad considered for a second saying no, that he was tired and needed to rest, could they do this another day? But he didn’t, just nodded and unlocked the door using the thumb pad. He ventured into the dorm, leaving the door open so that Bergy could wander through. There’s dust everywhere, because whilst he’s spent more time in here the last few weeks than he had in months, he still couldn’t be bothered to clean it. 

Patrice followed after him to the kitchen, where they stood, not talking and at least on Brad’s part, resolutely not looking at each other. He dug through the cupboard next to the fridge for any form of alcohol, he had a feeling he’d be needing it. 

There’s an old bottle of rum buried behind some instant noodles and a jar of tomato sauce. Perfect.

He pulled it out, taking a swig straight from the bottle before turning and offering some to Bergy, who shook his head. Brad took another pull, before settling it on the counter top. 

“So…” He started, “What are you doing here?”

“I think we need to have a talk.”

And there it is. It’s not like he hasn’t been expecting to hear those words for the past few weeks, but it’s still a punch in the gut anyway. Because of course Bergy’s here to break up with him, of course he’d do it while there was still a little bit of time left and not the night before he leaves like Brad probably would have done if the situation was reversed. 

“Alright fine, but please just, I don’t know, be gentle with it?”

“What?”

“Never mind it’s not important, what did you want to say,” He furiously tried to backtrack.

“Brad what exactly is it that you think I’m here to do?” 

“Uh, break up with me?”

“You think I’m going to  _ break up _ with you?” Brad raised his head at the shock and confusion coloring Bergy’s voice.

“You mean you aren’t?”

“No? Why would I?” 

“Who the fuck says ‘we need to talk’ if you’re not going to break up with them?”

“That’s what you’re going off of?” Patrice sounds alarmed and also amused, which did nothing to calm Brad’s nerves.

“Or maybe how you barely said two words to me in the weeks before graduation?”

“It was graduation! And I spoke to you more often then that.”

“Or put dates on hold for literally anything and everything?”

“Do you think I di-” 

“Or what about what you said to Kells? About a whole fresh new start and leaving everything here behind for good? Because I don’t know Patrice, things like that really give a guy a clue you know!”  The apartment fell into silence, and Brad let’s his eyes drop back to the counter top and resolutely did not begin to cry. Not yet, when Bergy was gone and he had downed at least half the alcohol he has, then he will cry. 

“I’ve been a fucking idiot, jesus christ Marchy. Look I…” Bergy paused, weighing up his next words for a second, “I wasn’t talking about you when I said that to Kells, of course I wasn’t.”

“What were you talking about then?” Brad knew he sounded like a whiny kid but he really couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I don’t know, the lessons? The brass always putting more and more pressure on us, everyone being too competitive for the wrong reasons? Take your pick. Not you though, you’re one of the best things about being here, you know that.”

Marchy chose not to dignify that with a response, because he thinks it’s pretty damn obvious that  _ no,  _ he did not in fact know that.

“Although apparently I was wrong to assume…”

“And everything else?”

“Graduation was really fucking hectic, but I should have talked to you about it, I was being-”

“An idiot?”

“Yeah,” Bergy huffed with a laugh, “Yeah I was.”

Brad chewed his bottom lip consideringly, and although his gaze was still fixed to the counter, he could make out Bergy moving closer in his peripheral vision until he was only a meter or so away. Brad just really wants to touch him, but he’s still hesitant. It all makes sense now that he’s heard the whole thing, and  _ god  _ isn’t he just an idiot for thinking Patrice Bergeron of all people would-

“Don’t do that, it’s not your fault.” 

“Do what?” The surprise of Bergy’s comment make Brad look up at his in reflex. He looked worried. 

“That thing you do where you blame yourself for stuff. I know you’re doing it, you have that look on your face.”

Brad quickly schooled his expression into something more neutral, although he’s pretty sure he just looks constipated, “I don’t have a face.”

“Yeah you do,” A lopsided smile crept across his mouth, but Bergy’s eyes are still sad, “I’m really sorry March.”

“It’s fine, I overreacted a little-”

“You didn’t.”

“I did a little, just a bit, but that’s fine!” He can tell Bergy wants to argue with him, but Brad’s not going to let him. He’s still reeling and there’s a part of him that’s not convinced that Patrice won’t just break up with in a few months when he’s on the  _ Boston. _

That part of him is easy enough to squash at that moment though, when he throws himself into Bergy’s chest, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and shoving his nose into his neck. Bergy stumbled at the force of it, but his arms quickly encircled Brad tight as he pressed a kiss into the top of his head. 

“I’ve got a week or so left before they ship me out, let’s just make the most of it yeah?”

And it’s not a promise of a future, in fact it sounds more uncertain that Brad would like, but it’s not something he was going to turn down. So he nodded, it’s a little lost against Bergy’s torso, but he thinks the message got across.

And god it’s been a miserable few weeks without this, he hadn’t realized quite how much his life was entangled with Bergy’s, how empty it was to just not have him around. He leans up to kiss him, and it’s warm and soft and it’s the happiest he’s felt since this whole thing began.

Yeah, he’ll take that week.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Consideringly's not a word but it should be. Hit me up with any like spelling mistakes if you seem them, I'm too lazy to check through this more than once.
> 
> Title from 'Better than yourself' by Lukas Graham, it's a pretty cool song, yeah.
> 
> Cheers!


End file.
